“Why’s Rich at your office?”
I sit up a little. “He works there. For my dad. You knew that.”
“No I didn’t.” He drops the rest of his mail on the table. “You told me your dad founded the agency, and that your dad introduced you to Rich. That’s all.”
“Oh. Well.” He’s right. It hasn’t come up. I didn’t intentionally omit it, but . . . maybe out of subconscious self-preservation. I have been avoiding talking about Rich’s job. “He works on my floor, but his office is all the way—”
“Halston.”
I cross my legs underneath myself. “I guess I should’ve told you.”
Finn sits on the coffee table in front of me. “Does he bother you?”
“Just about work stuff. Mostly about work stuff.” So far, I’ve managed to avoid being in the same room with Rich and my dad since deciding to keep the relationship charade going. But Rich is being his usual ostrich self about this break-up, pretending everything’s normal between us, even when we’re alone. Once in a while, he even surprises me with a sweet comment or gesture. “We have projects together, you know?”
“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”
My hair is suddenly scratchy on the back of my neck. I twist it up into a makeshift bun as I talk. “He’s an account manager. A liaison between the client and the agency team. Sometimes we have to work together on things.”
He leans his elbows onto his knees. “I’d think you would’ve mentioned seeing your ex every day. Is there a reason you didn’t? Do you still have feelings for him?”
I stop messing with my hair, taken aback by his bluntness. “Not romantic feelings, no.”
“But other kinds?” he asks. “Because people look for all kinds of things from a relationship, and if he gave you something I don’t—”
“No,” I say. “It’s not that. Not at all.” Knowing Finn’s sensitivity to cheating, I should’ve been more upfront. I can’t fault him for being a little paranoid considering his history. “I didn’t keep it from you for that reason. If anything, it was something else.” Finn values honesty. He won’t be mad, as long as I tell him the truth. I think. I look at my hands. “I guess on some level, I was afraid if I told you we worked together, you’d ask about Rich’s job. And Rich . . . he has a lot of sway in his position.”
“Meaning?” Finn asks.
“He can make changes or decisions about lots of things if he wants, including creative. In some cases, he’ll hire or recommend people for jobs. Like photographers for print or digital campaigns.”
He sits back. “Oh.”
“I could’ve given him your card when I met you. Or any time since then. But I haven’t. I feel weird about that.”
“You didn’t like my portfolio. Why should you recommend me?”
I open my mouth. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s true, though, Halston. You implied my older stuff was boring.”
“It isn’t boring.” I hold his gaze so he knows I’m telling the truth. “I said it lacked something, but the photos you took of me? They’re everything, Finn. They don’t lack a single thing. If I showed him your work, we’d probably hire you, but . . .”
“I get it,” he says when I don’t continue.
“It’s selfish. I want you all to myself. If Rich hires you, it changes things. That first time you took my picture—it never would’ve happened if you were working for my boyfriend.”
“I understand.” He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up like straw. “I mean, fuck. I just had no idea you’d even seen him since that phone call. It’s going to take me awhile to get used to that. Hasn’t that been weird?”
“Very.” He looks concerned, so I add, “It’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s amazing how little I feel for someone I spent two years with. Because with you—it . . . it’s the opposite. If you walked out of my life tomorrow, I’d be,” I swallow thickly, “I wouldn’t even go to work. I’d be in bed for a week. I’d be—” Oh my God. It’s the truth, and it makes me sick to my stomach. Two weeks in, I’m already in too deep. But shouldn’t I have seen this coming? Finn told me he might be obsessed early on, and given my history to nearly smother what gives me comfort, his admission gave me an excuse to obsess back. Now that we’ve been fucking morning and night, how could we not be here, sunk into each other like we’re bodies of quicksand? “I’d be heartbroken.”
Finn covers my hands with his. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not mad. But I am a little, I don’t know, jealous. I told you I have issues with that shit.”
My palms get clammy. There is one more detail I haven’t mentioned—my dad still believes Rich and I are together. It isn’t true, though, and it has no effect on my relationship with Finn. Once the holidays are over and my dad is feeling normal again, that will end. I could see how Finn’d take it the wrong way if I told him now. If it comes up later, maybe then. “You’ve talked about the affair, but help me understand the issue,” I say. “If you’re the one who cheated on your wife, why are you so worried about it? Aside from the obvious reasons.”
He rubs his jaw. The scrape of fingers over stubble reminds me of his scratchiness on my cheek. If this weren’t a serious conversation, I’d interrupt it with a kiss. “It’s not the physical cheating per se. The affair only lasted a month or so. It started when I moved in here a year ago. She was my neighbor.”
Neighbor. That’s why he always looks across the hall when he opens the door. “6B?” I ask.
He nods. “I was in a bad place. I felt strangled where I was, so I got an apartment in the city and gave Kendra an unfair ultimatum: move with me, or we’re done. Sadie, she was unhappy. I just had this draw to make her smile or laugh or drop her guard for a few minutes. I chose her over Kendra. I made promises. I gave her everything I could in a short amount of time because I wanted to win her.” He loosens his tie. I just process it all. It isn’t easy to hear that he recently offered someone else his love, but I doubt it’s half as hard as having to admit that to me. I keep listening. “I’d actually met Sadie once in college and she’d left an impact on me. So when I moved in across the hall from her, I thought it was destiny. That’s why I went all in without a safety net. I thought fate was on my side, and I could blame everything on that, including hurting Kendra.”
I knew Finn was a believer in fate, especially considering his comment earlier about past heartache being worth it to meet me, but it runs deep for him. He’s truly invested in the concept. Finding my journal, and then me, must mean a lot to him. I’m glad. I also think it was more than chance. “What happened?” I ask.
“In the end, Sadie chose her husband over me. It hurt. I could’ve lived with her staying with him out of obligation, but the truth is, she wanted him.”
Finn thinks he wasn’t enough for her. Maybe it’s because I’m not part of the situation, but I know instinctively that isn’t true. Whatever reasons Sadie had for choosing her husband didn’t have anything to do with Finn not being good enough. “I’m not going to choose Rich over you,” I say slowly. “By leaving Rich, I’m choosing myself. He—that life—wasn’t right for me.”
“You say that now, but things change. I didn’t choose Kendra because I loved her. I did it for Marissa, to feel good about myself, to please Kendra’s family. It’s not always about love.”
“That’s not how I see it. There’s love in all those decisions you made, if not for Kendra, then for your unborn child.”
“It was a complicated situation, just like yours.”
Rich offered me things I thought I wanted—security, love, and, in some ways, understanding. Even if he liked me best in a box, and noticed me because of my dad, Rich wasn’t a bad boyfriend. He could have had his pick of women when I met him, but even though I was heavier and being treated for depression, he’d still chosen me.
“Did she—Sadie—ever say she’d leave her husband for you?”
“Not until the end. I assumed a lot of things would happen that
didn’t. So I’m trying not to do that with you, but I’m not doing a great job of it.”
As far as I can tell, he hasn’t held back yet, and I don’t want him to start. “I’ve trusted you with a lot, Finn. My body, my words, my secrets. You could hurt me with everything you know.”
“I wouldn’t,” he says. “And I love what we’re creating. I wouldn’t destroy that.”
What we’re creating. Finn took my photo mid-fuck on Saturday and posted it. Every time I see it, I get a thrill. All his photos of me are beautiful and never explicit. His hand around my throat is just that, but his gentle hold juxtaposed with the obvious power he has makes it erotic. More so with my journal entry as the caption. Only he and I know the truth behind it.
Now that he’s brought it up, I get a craving to see the photo again. Has anybody commented or liked it since I looked this morning?
As of my train ride to work, Finn has posted nine of our photos, including one today.
That amounts to four hundred seventeen followers. Finn’s meticulous about lighting and uses the same settings to give each photo a faded, gray-ish quality that enhances the details.
I’ve kept a running tally of likes per photo. My fingers dipped in a mug? Fifty-nine. Sucking coffee off them? A hundred and ten—our most popular photo until today’s, which has a hundred and seventeen. It’s my hands splayed over my bare knees, my thumbs pressing into the skin of my inner thighs. Not even our best one, but with each post, our reach grows. As do likes and fans.
Comments too.
Fucking hottt
What’s this quote from?
Sexy account
No tits???
This ones kinky, love it
There are even more, mostly people tagging other users. The first two still make my stomach flip.
“Speaking of, I have something to show you,” Finn says, calling my attention back. He gets his cell from the pocket of his slacks. “A couple hours ago, this really big account shared our last photo.”
My heart skips. I try to see upside down as he navigates to the app. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He finds the account and passes me the phone. “Look.”
I take it, and when I see the number of likes, my jaw hits the floor.
One-thousand, two-hundred-fifty.
Holy shit.
Make that fifty-one.
Fifty-two.
I cover my mouth. My words are there too, for everyone to read. There are over thirty comments. “When did this happen?”
“A few hours ago. It’s an account featuring up-and-coming artists. Photographers, writers, painters. But really good, progressive work. I’ve been getting a ton of new followers from it.”
“How’d they find us?”
“Someone tagged them in a comment on our photo. I did a little research. Accounts like this one get a lot of followers just from reposting other people’s photos. They’re called feature accounts.”
“Did you read the comments?”
“Yeah.” He closes his knees around mine, pressing my legs together. “They’re all good. Really good, Hals. It’s all you. Your words.”
I’m grinning like an idiot, but I can’t help it. People are looking at his photograph. My caption. My body. “It’s us,” I say.
“It’s you.” He runs his hands up my thighs. “You and your fucking amazingness.”
I go through the last few photos featured on the account. “None of these have even a thousand likes,” I say.
“Ours is the sexiest one on there. Maybe even of their entire account.” He slides a finger under the hem of my dress. “Or all time.”
I look at Finn. A few weeks ago, I would’ve burned my journals before letting anybody near them. And just because I’ve lost weight doesn’t mean I’m not self-conscious about my body. This photo is validation I might be doing something right. People other than Finn and myself are connecting with what I wrote. They get me. Finn did this for me. This project is ours, but he’s given me confidence. He wants to make me happy, and I am—without medication. “I love—this.” I choke on this and cough to cover my blunder. I almost said you. Almost. Out of habit. I don’t mean it. I feel love, not for Finn yet, it’s too soon, but I feel it. I never expected, when I agreed to do this with Finn, that anyone would really care what I had to say. Not like this.
“I love this too,” he says. “And I love being able to turn your day around.”
I drop my eyes to his lips, the most kissable lips on the planet, I’m fairly sure. “Technically it’s night,” I say softly.
“Technically, you’re wearing too much clothing.” He stretches forward to kiss me. His warm mouth gives me permission to melt. Without disconnecting from me, he gets up, planting his hands at my sides on the cushions. I bend my head all the way back to meet his kisses.
He reaches one hand under my dress and pauses. “Halston?”
“Mmm?”
“Is this what I think it is?”
I pull up the hem and show him my black thigh-high stockings. “As requested.”
He blinks at them. “You weren’t wearing these when you left this morning.”
“I bought them on my lunch break. Just for you.”
He grunts, fingering the lace trim. That’s all it takes. He kicks the coffee table out of the way, pushes my dress up around my hips, and gets to his knees. I drop my head against the back of the couch when he shoves my underwear aside and buries his face between my thighs. My hands run through his thick, honey-colored hair, the strands sprouting soft and silky from my fingers.
He picks me up by my ass to get even more of me in his mouth. I steady myself on the couch cushions, grasping them when he spears his tongue inside me. “Imagine if someone took our photo like this,” I say.
Mouth glistening, he drags me down the couch by my hips, licking his lips like I’m a meal he hunted, slaughtered, and refuses to give up. He props me up on the arm, slides down his zipper, and pulls out his cock without even undoing his belt. He takes it in his hand and skims it through my wetness. “Fucking condom.” He groans. “It’s a hassle.”
“Forget it,” I say. “I’m on birth control. You've seen me take it the past few days.”
He furrows his eyebrows, then looks between us as he teases my entrance. “You wet, Hals? You look good and wet.”
I inhale sharply. “Mostly from your mouth.”
He sinks into me, and I sink into the couch. Into him. I bliss out while he pulls me onto him harder with every thrust. “Don’t come,” he says.
I lift my head to look at him. He’s golden and sexy, but there’s an edge of darkness in his eyes. Just watching him handle my body makes me hot. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. I like the idea of keeping you on the edge while I come. Of you dying for me to take you again.”
I look up at the ceiling. Don’t climax. Don’t think of Finn toying with me until he’s ready to fuck me later. Submitting to his demands excites me, the opposite of what I need to be happening. I close my eyes as he takes me, willing myself to stay in control of my orgasm. Perhaps seeing the frustration on my face, Finn doesn’t torture me long. He pulls out, dropping me back onto the couch. I open my eyes just in time to watch him pump his fist and come on the couch cushion.
He still doesn’t trust me. If I didn’t know his story, I’d be worried, but it’s less about me than him.
He looks down at me, his chest heaving. “I almost came on you.”
The ache between my legs, tender and swollen, flutters at his admission. “Why didn’t you?”
“I . . .” He cocks his head, studying me. I don’t think it’s the question he expected. “Next time.”
I should argue. I can’t imagine any other man telling me he’ll come on me and getting away with it. I’m helpless to Finn’s command, though, as his model, his girl, his doll. Maybe because I’m used to being under others’ control. But with Finn, I want to be.
He tugs my dress back into place before tucking
himself in his pants. There’s a wet spot on his trousers from my pussy. If I didn’t want to come already, that makes me pant for it.
He holds out his hand to hoist me to my feet. “How do you feel about showing some leg?”
I glance down at myself. Somehow, without explanation, I understand he means for the camera. I look back at him, at his soiled suit. “It doesn’t always have to be me, you know. I could write something for you.”
“Nobody wants to look at me.”
I grin and pull him close by his button-down. “Wrong. Some women like a man in a suit.”
“Are you one of them?”
I nod my head all the way up and then down. “Right now I am.”
“I like to be behind the camera.”
“Just this once?” I begin to unknot his tie. “I already have an idea. You can show me what to do.”
He stands tall and solid as I undo him. “I’m not a teacher.”
“Not even for me?” I ask.
He looks down his nose at me. “If you’ll give me your legs, you have a deal.”
I slip his tie off. “Deal.”
Finn leads me into the studio and unpacks his bag while I slide his silky fabric through my hands. It’s just a tie, but it has so many potential uses.
“Come here,” Finn says.
I hang the tie around my neck and take the camera when he holds it out to me. It’s heavier than I thought, colder too. I use both hands to inspect it. “I can see why you like this. It feels sturdy. Professional.”
“It is. Expensive too.” He smiles but says through his teeth, “Don’t drop it.”
I laugh. “Never.”
“You want to keep it steady.” He moves behind me to nudge my feet shoulder-width apart. “Easier said than done, but balance helps.”
“Do I look through the viewfinder?”
“Nah, we’ll use the display.” From behind, he cups his hand around mine, lifting the camera to my face. “Fill the screen as much as possible with your subject.”
“You.”
“Yes, me.” His tone is serious, authoritative. “Touch the shutter button, but don’t push it.”
I do, and he rests his index finger over mine.
Yours to Bare Page 17
